


Buying on the Fly

by Brackets_002



Series: Children of Wyrm [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: also i wrote this in an hour and a half whoops, bc that's exactly who they are but, idk if i should call Asco the Dead Greenpath Vessel in the character tags??, that's not a character its a prop, this will make absolutely no sense to the person who inspired it, this...is not a prop, well that's what the other two CoW fics are for!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:19:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackets_002/pseuds/Brackets_002
Summary: A little Vessel takes a journey to the surface, on a mission of vital importance.





	Buying on the Fly

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this Tumblr post:
> 
> http://goopyshark.tumblr.com/post/170213401962/id-kill-for-1-people-to-acknowledge-moth-cloak

> 
> and I said to myself: "I'm the co-writer for an AU in which both of these children are alive and happy. Why don't I write about Asco the Greenpath Vessel and their fluffy-looking moth cloak?" and an hour and a half later this existed. Sometimes these things just happen. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> For those who have never read a Children of Wyrm fic before, Asco is the name we've given the dead Vessel in the room of the Hornet 1 boss fight. For returning customers, this takes place sometime before Lightfest.

Vessels have no expressions; their faces are utterly immobile. Yet, the excitement with which Asco ran through the streets of the bustling little town, weaving between the legs of larger bugs, could be felt from thirty paces like the warmth of a campfire. In their hands were two large coins, totalling 10 Geo—their first allowance ever. Other Vessels had opted to save their money, or journey to the City to spend it on smaller knicknacks, but Asco was a bug of daring, with a love of adventure that their siblings couldn’t fathom. One ill-fated encounter with a Vengefly had barely put a damper in their spirits. Which was why, as the Retainer who had been assigned to keep them out of trouble fell far behind, calling after them and trying in vain to push through the crowds, Asco had darted away until they found a shop that looked interesting.

Its interior was brightly lit, and the walls were lined with shelves containing items more fascinating than Asco could have dreamed. As they gazed at the wares in front of, behind, and to either side of them, the shopkeeper was staring at the odd-looking child with the lead weight of worry settling in his stomach. He knew what the King’s children looked like. The white robes, pale mask, and eyes darker than the deepest caves had given the Vessel’s status away instantly; and the diagonal crack going down one side of their face had told him even more. Not only was this a Vessel, this was the Vessel who had been attacked by a pest in the Crossroads below, just a few months ago. He cleared his throat and said cautiously, “Little one, does your father know that you are here?”

Asco looked at him as though they had just noticed him. Hurrying to the counter, they struggled to reach high enough to drop the Geo just in front of the vendor before staring up at him with a fascinated air. They hadn’t answered or even apparently noticed the question, so he repeated it, and when they nodded enthusiastically his anxieties lessened slightly. Then, before he could reply, they pointed behind him at one of the items on the wall.

“What?” he asked, looking behind himself. He had to check a few times to see what exactly had caught their eye, but at last he touched a brown and grey, dusty-looking cloak and said, “This?”

Asco nodded again. They had grabbed the edge of the counter and appeared to be trying to pull themselves up for a better look; he had to admit, the way they stared so curiously and the way their chin didn’t  _ quite _ reach the edge of the counter was adorable. “Ah, yes, a Mothwing Cloak. Good eye, little one; a very practical item, this is.” He took it from the hook it had been hanging on and brought it down to allow the child to better see. “The moths have very interesting burial traditions, you know. When they die, and if they’ve given permission, their family threads strands of their wings through cloaks like this one. Nothing else in Hallownest catches the air as well as one of these, I guarantee; just give it a flap, and it’ll push you forward like you were flying!”

The Vessel looked awed—at least, he thought they did; it was hard to tell. They let go of the counter, falling several inches so that their eyes could only barely see over it, and held up their hands as though asking for the cloak. The shopkeeper hesitated. He had been very careful not to mention the price of this particular ware, but if the ten Geo that had been dropped on his counter was all the money the Vessel had, they were several thousand short. He was exquisitely lucky to have acquired one at all; the moths, justifiably, rarely parted with them. If he sold it to this toddler for a measly ten Geo, he would be essentially giving away a priceless garment for free. And yet…

And yet…

“Are you sure?” he asked the Vessel, and Asco nodded and hopped in place excitedly.

The cloak, when draped over the child’s shoulders, looked as though they had been bundled up for cold weather. Even with it clasped around their neck and closed, it was much too large and looked, for lack of a better word,  _ poofy _ from the air inside. Still, they looked down at it happily, twirled in place as though admiring a dress, and gave it an experimental flap by grabbing the edges and pulling them sharply backwards. Asco hadn’t lifted their feet and so immediately fell forward and onto their face; as they hurriedly got back up, the shopkeeper said absently, “It takes some practice,” and they nodded and tried again.

This time, they picked up their feet as they felt themself starting to move, and their dash carried them straight out the door and back into the streets of Dirtmouth. They dashed again, and again; soon they were hurtling through the streets and between bugs, feet barely touching the ground, and if Vessels had been born with voices Asco’s ecstatic laughter would have echoed through the streets. It would have been cut off by the low thud of them dashing into a wall, but even as they laid on their back, dazed, their shoulders and chest still shook beneath the cloak with silent giggles.

“ _ Asco! _ There you are!” cried the Retainer, as the Vessel pushed themselves into a sitting position. They had to look almost straight up at their caretaker as she strode out of the crowd and stopped next to them. “I was specifically ordered to keep an eye on you, and if the King learns—where did you get that cloak?”

Asco got to their feet before pulling out their wax tablet and writing down a quick explanation. As the Retainer read it over, their leg quietly bounced underneath their brand new cloak, eager to take off again. “How did you…” the Retainer began. “...That must have cost…” Asco’s head tilted, confused, and the Retainer decided not to finish her sentence. “So that’s what you’ve bought with your allowance, then?” she asked. “Good; let’s head back to the Stag Station. I’m under strict orders from your father to bring you back to the palace as soon as you’ve bought what you wanted.”

Asco’s face fell. They had barely been on the surface for five minutes. Reluctantly they took the retainer’s hand, but already an idea had taken root in their mind: the Retainer couldn’t bring them home if she couldn’t catch them. They pulled their hand out of her grip again, and she began to speak. “Fine. You can walk by yourself. Just don’t—hey—no— _ NO! _ ”

Too late. Asco had already flapped the Mothwing Cloak, picked up their feet, and vanished into the crowd, leaving only a cloud of dust in their wake.


End file.
